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Chapter Sixty: Victory and Vengeance.
"You did it, Harry, you won." Ron said in disbelief at Harry's shoulder, staring at the body of the man they had fought for so long.
"We won." Harry nodded, awestruck himself.
Suddenly, noises of celebration echoed around Harry, as the realisation passed through the hordes of makeshift soldiers of the Dark Lord's death. It was raucous and loud; filled with joy and pain and loss. It felt like relief and like mourning. It was victory in its purest form; brutal and beautiful. There were sudden pops of apparition between the voices, as people hurried to share the news and to flee their loss and escape capture from the side that won. It was so much activity and noise and commotion.
Harry turned to look at his best friend and found himself engulfed in Weasley embraces, where tears flowed and words of congratulations were shared. George looked lost, haunted by the emptiness of half a soul. Arthur and Molly were clinging to the remainders of their family, bone crushing hugs spread among their children, desperate to reassure and protect. Percy and Charlie were clapping one another on the back, distracted relief on their faces. Bill and Fleur whispered in a loving embrace. Ginny was holding onto Luna. And Ron threw an arm around Harry, understanding the confusion of emotion.
Leaders of the Light Side began barking orders, commanding the remaining Death Eaters to be captured, for the injured to be treated promptly, and for the dead to be gathered and laid in a private room off of the Great Hall. People began to arrange themselves, heading off in groups to fulfil the various tasks handed to them. The air was full of purpose once more, but it did nothing to lower the aura of gratefulness hanging around their heads.
"What do we do with…?" Ron asked, directing both of their gazes to the body no one had touched yet.
"Leave it to rot." Ginny scowled, before hurrying away to help Seamus and Dean carry a body inside.
"I can't believe its over." Ron shook his head, "All these years..."
"Hermione doesn't know." The thought suddenly struck Harry, "We should tell her."
"I don't think McGonagall is going to let us sneak away." Ron eyed the elderly witch apprehensively.
"We should help first, then we can tell the girls." Harry eyed the decimated ruins of Hogwarts, "Come on."
They headed across the courtyard, spreading outward as the others had done. Clambering over fallen walls and dodging puddles of broken glass. Many of the injured and dead had been moved during the brief truce, but they heard the calls of other soldiers announcing a body or a severely injured witch or wizard. The further away from the courtyard they went the more the reality of victory was beginning to sink in; death and irrevocable changes. Searching for the dead and those dying or suffering from injuries that would change their lives created heavy hearts which had previously flown with joy.
Harry was looking through a fallen rock crevice when he heard Ron yell out. He spun on his heels and hurried over to the ginger haired wizard.
"It's Hermione!"
In the distance, the familiar curls of their mutual best friend could be seen, matted and bloody, but definitely hers. The two boys raced off in the direction of the witch, who was limping along, leaning heavily on the rough castle wall to remain standing. She looked up at their noisy approach and a brief smile graced her lips, which was creased with pain. Both wizards were drawn up short at her appearance. It was not the streaks of blood marring her cheeks or the mud coating her back that disturbed them. But her eyes – her brown eyes squinting at them, blood shot and unfocused, but her eyes looking out at them.
"You can see!" Harry cried, gathering her into his arms, "You can see!"
"I can see, yes, I can see, Harry, please, I need-"
"What are doing here?" His arms had barely release her, when Ron barrelled into her and smothered her with his own hug.
"W-"
"You can see, Hermione!" Ron happily chanted in her ear, picking her up off of the floor and spinning her around, "You can read again!"
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" She smacked her hand repeatedly against his shoulder, "Draco is in trouble!"
"What?" Both boys froze in their jubilation.
"The Aurors have taken him into custody for his Dark Mark. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen. They're taking him to Azkaban!" Hermione explained frantically, "We need to stop them! Draco is on our side!"
"It's okay, Herm-" Harry placed his hand on her arm.
"It is not okay, Harry, he's being imprisoned!" She shoved off his hand, "He helped us win and they're going to punish him!"
"He was a Death Eater." Ron reasoned in an under tone. Hermione narrowed her glare on him.
"He was. He was a Death Eater. He was forced into that choice. He was made to make choices to keep himself alive because it was life and death in this war. But he changed sides. He fought for us. We have won this war because of him too." She ground out between her clenched teeth. Her magic crackled at her fingertips and her whole being seemed to grow with power, "Draco does not deserve to be punished."
"We'll sort it, Hermione, we'll help him." Harry reassured her quickly, scared of what her accidental magic would do if left to be so uncontrolled, "Don't worry, we will get him out of Azkaban."
"He saved my life. I will save his." Hermione vowed in a clear voice devoid of any challenge. Harry and Ron glanced at each other in concern. She was using a tone they had rarely heard but feared; it was the voice that spoke of stubbornness and bravery and righteousness. They knew she would stop at nothing, nothing at all.
She would not stop until Draco was free.